


Is There Something Wrong Or Is It Just Metro?

by SquiglyChan



Series: Squidbeak Shenanigans [3]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: (I will change the warnings as necessary), Boss Battles, Deep sea metro, Mild Language, Mixed up Stations, Octo Expansion DLC Spoilers, Other, Post-Octo Expansion DLC, Russian C.Q Au, Sanitized Octarian Swarms, Sanitized Octolings, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquiglyChan/pseuds/SquiglyChan
Summary: It was supposed to be a normal Saturday, no missions, no fighting, and no... train driving sea slugs?Agent 3 had completely blocked the metro out of his memory, hoping to spend his Saturday working, like usual. But when he and the other agents get a late night call from the captain calling them into the metro, he isn't too keen on heading back there. Kamabo Co. was out of commission, out permanently. So the agents are stuck having to clean up the mess left over. Stations are falling apart, morphing into new ones, and the deep sea monsters are taking over.Perhaps they'll save the metro and shut down the out of whack stations, or the deep sea denizens would have to evacuate and find a new way of travel.
Relationships: Agent 3 & Agent 4 (Splatoon), Agent 3/Agent 8 (Splatoon), Agent 4 & Agent 8 (Splatoon)
Series: Squidbeak Shenanigans [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490342
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Blast from the Past

Agent 3 didn't know how he had ended up in this situation but at this point he didn't care. 8's small hand fit neatly in his, the octoling snuggled his head into the crook of his neck, and his other hand was delicate as it brushed against his shoulder. Banira tightened his hold on 8's waist, leading him gently back and forth.

The music in the background was quietly playing a song he didn't recognize, but he didn't really care. 8 was quietly singing to it, and that was good enough for him. It could be the only sound he would hear for the rest of his life. The octoling in his grasp looked up at him, that lovely purple of his eyes making his stomach do a back-flip, moving his hand from his shoulder to his cheek. 3 knew what he was hoping for and his own arm moved from 8's waist to his cheek. He pressed their foreheads together before leaning down, excitement swimming through his veins, and---

_Ring ring. Ring ring_

His eyes shot open, the heavy feeling of his eyelids nearly pulling him back into sleep. He cursed whoever decided to call at this time of night as he heaved himself out of the comfort of his blankets, the sheets and comforter somehow getting bunched up into a nest of sorts. His clock was the only light in the room, his eyes adjusting to the dimness as he slowly made his way to the door.

He refused to check the time. If he did, he was pretty sure he would throw more autobombs into the neighbors' yard to relieve some of the pent up stress and he was still in trouble from it last time. He could hear the ringing get louder as he stepped into the hallway, the light in the living room allowing him to see. A yawn forced its way out of his mouth as he approached the phone.

“Hello?” His mother must've fallen asleep on the couch for her to catch the phone before him. “What do you need him at this time of night for?...I'll see if he's up to it but I know he has been working his tentacles off.” She turned to the hallway and jumped when she saw him there. “Oh, hi sweetie. Someone under the name of Cuttlefish wishes to speak with you. You know him, right?”

“Yeah, that's one of my bosses. Don't worry about it,” he rubbed his eye, hoping whatever the captain wanted could be done quick and easy. He took the phone and held it to his ear, noticing his mother stay within earshot, “hello?”

“Ah, Agent 3! Sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour but I needed you three agents for a job,” the captain was too cheery, too loud. If he wasn't a veteran, he would probably be in a mangled mess for waking 3 up at this hour.

“What kind of job?”

“No, no job,” his mother interjected, 3 being too tired to deal with the invasion of privacy.

“Well, I've been spending some time down in the metro for awhile now and I've noticed something. C.Q seems to be stressed out about something, so much so that I've seen him snapping at his commuters and screaming into his hat.”

“Who?”

“C.Q. Cumber. The sea slug that drives the train.”

3 blinked for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming. Did you just say the 'sea slug that drives the train?'”

“What kind of jobs are you doing?” His mother asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Agent 3,” he twitched at the captain's voice, “you heard me correctly. I'll explain better when you get here. I'll see you at ten hundred hours tomorrow.”

“But wait, I don't even know how to---” 3 let out a groan as he heard the dial tone. Leave it to the captain to not know how to hang up a phone every other time but hang up on 3 mid sentence.

“Banira, sweetie? You okay?” He jumped, forgetting his mother was still there.

“Yeah, I'm fine. The captain just needs me for something tomorrow,” he yawned, finally looking up and seeing his mom's face. He remembered being upset as a small inkling that he didn't inherit the freckles that dusted her face. But for the first time, he noticed the bags under her eyes and the purple coloring. “What time is it?”

“It's like 1:30. Now, why does this boss or 'captain' call you 'Agent 3?'”

“Just a job title. Don't worry about it.”

“Last time you told me not to worry about it, the neighbors came breaking the door down because of loose autobombs in their yard. Besides, as your mother, it's my job to worry about you.”

3 opened his mouth to argue but a yawn escaped him. As much as he would like to win an argument again, he could tell both he and his mother were too tired to hold any kind of productive conversation. He gave a small wave before trudging his way back to his room. He heard his mom make a noise as if she wanted to continue on the topic but he heard her yawn and he knew she gave up on the idea.

***

A quiet knock on his door woke him, the remnants of his dream dissipating. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head, his eyelids heavy. He kicked the blankets off his legs, his cocoon falling apart, and he stood up. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, his entire body groggy.

“Morning, my little inkblot,” his mother said from the kitchen, the sound of sizzling and the smell of eggs and bacon also greeting him. He quietly slipped past her to the coffee machine, turning it on and starting a pot. “You know caffeine is bad for you.”

“If it was so bad, you'd throw the coffee maker out or give it away,” he replied, taking his travel mug out of one of the cupboards.

“Why are you always so aggressive in the morning?”

“Because I don't have my coffee yet,” another yawn escaped him, helping prove his point.

His mother let out a sigh, “teenagers. Fine, coffee boy. If you are going to glue yourself to that part of the counter, the least you could do is get two plates.”

“Other than me being in the way,” he began, opening the dish cupboard and pulling the plates off the top shelf. “What's stopping you from getting them yourself?”

“Are you kidding me? You put them on the top shelf, the one place I can't reach in the entire house.”

“That sounds like an iss_ue_ not an iss-me. Just get taller,” he set both plates down next to each other, the coffee machine chiming to notify him. “Oh, come to me you caffeinated son of a bitch.”

His mother gently smacked the back of his head, “Language. Go sit at the table, I'll finish up in here.” He filled up his mug and fastened the lid as his mother ushered him out of the kitchen. Pulling a chair out, he placed his mug on the dinner table. “Oh! Your friends called earlier, saying they'd come pick you up around 8:30. So you have about 15 minutes to eat breakfast.” The toaster popped up.

“Which friends?” He took a big gulp of his drink, his mom sitting across from him and setting a plate in front of him. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, son. They said they were co-workers of yours. One of them spoke kind of odd, I'm assuming that was Mochi? The octoling you have on your lock screen?”

“Yeah...that's the one,” he felt his body temperature rise and he needed a topic change “I'm still annoyed you decided to nose your way onto my phone, even going so far as to get me locked out of it for an hour because you couldn't guess my password.”

“I'm sorry but can you blame me? I just wanted to know if there was a lucky girl or guy out there, someone making you happy.”

“Mother!”

She giggled before eating her own breakfast. Banira could've sworn his entire face was red as he nibbled on a piece of toast, mentally cursing to himself. He let out a yawn before he took another sip of his coffee, the bitter drink giving him something else to focus on. He glanced up, seeing his mother wanting to say something before a knock interrupted her.

“I'll get it,” he pushed himself up out of his seat and made his way to the front door. 3 propped an arm on the door frame as he opened the door, any hope of having a decent morning catching fire and flying out the window. Standing on his front porch was 4 and 8, dressed in their agent gear, the two agents looking like they weren't expecting the door to open so soon.

“'Sup 3, sorry if we're early,” 4 said, looking behind the taller inkling at the kitchen table. He lowered his voice, “I didn't know you had your girlfriend over. We can come back later.”

“That's not my girlfriend,” he hissed out. “That's just my mother, she's kinda crazy this morning. But come in, she'll kill me if I leave you two out here.”

“At least there is someone helping you mind your manners,” 4 said as he took his offer, gingerly stepping past the third agent and into the living room. 8 stood on the porch for a moment, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face, before he followed his brother, his arm brushing against 3's.

“Oh, hello there,” his mother spoke from the kitchen table, his stomach coiling in on itself. “Would you gentlemen like some tea?”

8 grabbed his arm, pulling him close, “Depend. Have green?” 3 lead him to the table, the octoling taking the seat next to his.

“We have green tea. Let me go and heat up some more water and I can get you some tea. What about you?” She turned to 4, the inkling sitting across from 8.

“I'm good, but thank you.”

“Is pretty house. Me likes it.”

“Oh thank you,” his mother said from the kitchen. “I'm glad someone appreciates the work I go through to make it presentable.”

3 rolled his eyes and propped his elbow on the table, his cheek resting on his hand. If he could finish breakfast quickly, his mother wouldn't have the time to embarrass him in front of the newer agents. He tuned out of the conversation, his mind jumping from coffee to the job the captain has for them in the metro. 4's laugh brought his attention upward, the light blue inkling looking at the octoling in front of him.

Mochi had taken a piece of toast off his plate, clearly subconsciously, and was nibbling away while he talked about the color of curtains he liked. 3 was too tired to care, any other day he would've given the agent an earful. He chugged a few mouthfuls of coffee, the beverage still warm, and he lifted himself off the chair. He turned the coffee machine back on, hearing the extra water in it bubble up.

“Banira, sweetie, that's too much coffee. Maybe have some soothing tea instead?” He rolled his eyes at his mother's words, a yawn escaping him. He pulled out the largest drawer, the trash can sitting safely inside, and he scraped the small amount of food he didn't finish.

“Maybe you should listen to her, _sweetie_,” 4 taunted from his spot at the table and it took a lot of self-control for Banira to not launch himself at the agent.

“Koré, please nice be. Banira, ready get and me'll make coffee,” the smile Mochi gave him made his hearts flutter and he had to put more effort into keeping his footing. “Does need milk or sugar?”

“Nah, just black coffee is fine,” he mumbled, setting his plate in the sink and heading to his room to get dressed.

He could hear his mother laugh, “I haven't seen him that flustered in awhile. I can take care of the coffee, Mochi.”

“Is fine. Me like cooking and do things for friend.”

Banira adjusted the headphones over his ears, pulling his cape out of his closet. “Cod,” he whispered to himself as he tied his cape on. “What is he doing to me?” He shook his head and zipped up his hero vest.

“That's very sweet of you! Sometimes I wish Banira would help with the cooking or other things around the house.”

“He not does?”

“Not usually, no. He always seems so moody and exhausted,” he stepped out of his room and into the hallway. “You guys hang out with him, what goes on in those turf war games nowadays?”

“Three---er...Banira,” 4 started. “He doesn't do turf war often. As far as I know, he does whatever rank mode is in rotation and Salmon Run. Then there is the missions the Cap'n sends us on and, I think he has another job, but I'm not sure.”

“Koré right, he work self ragged,” 8's words made him pause for a moment, grabbing his hero runners from their place along the wall. “If not for him, me not be as good of shot.”

“Really? I've always seen him sleeping or lounging around, usually drinking coffee even late at night,” he heard his mother mumble and he took his cue to step out of the hallway.

“I couldn't tell you why, the Cap'n keeps saying he's trying to---Oh, hey there, Banira,” 4 noticed him first, the agent sheepishly giving him a wave.

“Banira!” 8 cheered, the octoling nearly throwing himself at the inkling. “Is here coffee, me hope you like.” Mochi turned to his mother, clearing his throat. “It nice to meet you, Ms...”

His mother waved dismissively, “Just call me Ichigo. It was wonderful to meet you both, feel free to visit whenever you'd like. Now, run along. I don't wanna hold you up any longer than I have to.”

“Thanks you again! Bye bye.”

“Thank you for letting us disturb your home,” 4 got up from the table, moving to stand by the front door.

“I'll see you later, mother,” 3 said as he opened the door, shoving the two out. “I don't know when I'll be be back but do you want me to bring back something for dinner?”

“You don't have to, I'll be fine dear. Just go,” his mother smiled at him before giving him a gentle nudge and closing the door behind him.

3 let out a sigh, catching up to the other two at the end of the driveway. Mochi grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze, before they started walking. He looked up, seeing Deca Tower in the distance. He wasn't aware of a subway system or any entrance to the underground metro near the square but he trusted 8 knew where he was going.

“So...” 4 started, his hands in his hoodie pockets. “You still live with your mom?”

“Oh, be quiet,” he snapped. “It's free rent and besides, I haven't found a place that I liked that was affordable.”

“So then, why are you working so hard trying to earn money? If you don't have to pay rent, are you trying to buy something really expensive?”

“I've got something in mind, yeah.”

“Mind if I ask what it is?”

“Just something for my mother is all. I've given her hell for the past few months and I feel bad.”

“You? Feel bad about something? I don't think that's possible.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you're just asking to get punched.”

“Can two nice be for day?” Mochi asked, the octoling staring at Crusty Sean's truck for a moment before leading the way towards the tower.

“I'll try but knowing Banira, it won't last long.”

“How do we get into the metro from here?” 3 asked, looking around at the buildings. Nothing screamed underground to him but he still mixed up the shops in the square from time to time.

“Nice topic change,” 4 muttered.

“Staircase in corner. Not worry, I lead way,” 8 squeezed his hand before tugging 3 closer to the tower.

They passed Off the Hook's corner news space, the octoling agent leading them into the alley. 3 waved at Spyke, the urchin sitting in a cafe 3 was still confused on how to enter, and got a nod in return. He remembers how he would constantly bother him for items and gear, back when he cared and played turf war. He wondered if the urchin found him annoying still or how he was doing with his life, especially since he made so much just by sitting around.

“It just here,” Mochi's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, standing in front of a metal gate leading down underground. “Cap'n said he meet down on train.”

The staircase didn't look friendly, an unnerving feeling settling in his stomach. 4 approached the gate, jiggling the lock, before carefully climbing over it when it wouldn't open. 3 took a deep breath before vaulting it, nearly kicking 4's face “accidentally.” 8 was a little short, the top of the gate resting at the middle of his chest, making it hard for him to get over it. 4 gave him a nudge from behind, prompting him to grab the octoling's waist and heave him upward. Mochi swung his legs over the rail and hopped down.

The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the walls as the trio descended the stairs. 3 could hear water dripping coming somewhere deeper in the metro, the darkness calling them with assorted noises. 8 grabbed his arm, pressing himself closer. He didn't blame him. What he could remember of the metro weren't good memories. A train horn blared out, seeming to come from the other side of a door. 4 pulled the handle and swung the door open, the train tracks opening up in front of them.

“The captain said he'd meet us on the train, right? Did he say which one?” 3 asked as he looked along the tracks, a train sitting on the rails on the far side.

“Not that I'm aware of,” 4 said as he dropped onto the tracks. “But you know which one he usually rides on, right, Moch?”

“Mmhm, number second train,” 8 replied as they quickly crossed to the center platform. “Oh, it the one.”

3 knocked at the closed doors, taking a sip of his coffee. The doors let out a hiss, the train chugging to life, before opening and revealing the captain. The green sweatsuit he wore mixed with the headphones around his neck was more unsettling than the eerie quiet of the metro. He ushered the three agents on board right before the doors shut. 3 could feel the train start moving underneath them, the train generating a gentle hum.

“Salutations, young'uns. I'm sure you're wondering why I called you down here, and on such short notice too,” the captain began, taking a seat.

“I think I am more qualified to explain the situation,” a high pitched voice spoke from the other side of the car, the train doors closing.

8 let out a gasp, “C.Q!” The agent ran up and scooped up what appeared to be a blue slug. “Been while. How've been?”

“Other than the stressful situation we are facing at the moment, I've been well 10,008. And what about you? How has Inkopolis been treating you?”

“Now hold up a second,” 3 said, staring at the slug in Mochi's arms. “You are supposed to be the train conductor?”

“Indeed. It is actually quite simple. However, I don't have the luxury to sit here and explain it to you,” C.Q lifted his hat and pulled a C.Q 80 out, pressing the button on it and opening the map. “As you can see, there are only 68 stations showing up on the map. There should be 80 stations throughout the metro. Normally stations disappear from the map when they undergo maintenance but Kamabo.Co has currently gone out of business. The stations should be getting shut down however something is keeping them online.

“There are a few stations that are there that weren't before,” he zoomed in to a station on the pink line, pointing to the name. “Such as this one. 'Ride With Girl Power Station' was not there when 8 went through the stations the first time. Looking at the description, it seems to be a mix of 'Ride With Me Station' and 'Girl Power Station.' From what I've seen, a test subject must complete the station and shut it down from the inside before the creatures inside get too rambunctious. They've been destroying stations and taking over parts of the tracks, forcing us conductors to either go around or abandon stops altogether.”

“If you want the stations to be shut down, why is it a bad thing that whatever it is is destroying them?” 4 asked, mesmerized by the floating screen.

“It wouldn't be a bad thing if they stayed contained, however they are escaping their stations and swarming into other parts of the metro.”

“So what do you want us to do about it?” 3 asked, scanning the different dots littering the map.

“The Cap'n suggested that he calls his best agents and that they would take care of the issue. I don't doubt that you three can take out the enemies that are keeping us locked up here. 8 went through a whole bunch of tests on his own so, with three of you, it should be a piece of cake.”

“That would've been nice to know before we got here,” 4 said, taking the C.Q 80 and scrolling through the stations.

“Are you implying that you wouldn't have shown up if you had known?” The captain asked from his seat, his voice taking a slightly annoyed tone.

“It's not that. I just wish I would've been able to bring my Hero Shot or Moch's Brella.”

“Sorry to say,” C.Q started, slinking his way back to the ground. “But test subjects aren't allowed to bring weapons into the test without them being approved first. It isn't a fun system but it is the one we are stuck with. Most of the other stations are currently in the process of getting shut down but there are a few that we will need to send you into.”

“That fine,” Mochi said, gently nudging 4. “What stations we have go?”

“Let me see,” the small slug scrolled through the stations. “Ah, here we are. 'Ride With Girl Power Station, 8 Ball Master Station, Drop Your Cool Toast-Fu Station, and Can't Touch One-Shot Station.' There are only four but they are the ones that the other employees have asked for assistance on.”

“'Drop Your Cool Toast-Fu Station?' What kind of station is that?” 3 asked.

“There is no description for this one. I'd save it for last, since there is no warning of what to expect. Or you could jump into it first and get it out of the way. Either way, pick your destination and we'll go.”

“8 Ball Master Station sounds like a fun one!” 4 chimed in, gently patting C.Q.

“8 Ball Master Station it is then. Have a seat and try not to get up any time during the transit. Off we go,” C.Q was slow but he made his way out of their train car, the doors sliding open and closing behind him.

3 looked around, scanning the random stickers plastered on the wall and the way the world ran past the windows. The captain was seated by the door, his phone placed right next to him displaying a photo of Callie and Marie in their younger years. The jellies he saw were a bit odd, their heads really long or separated onto little rings. He looked back to the door C.Q had disappeared through and his eyes landed on the creature next to it, a set of his arms crossed.

“It has been awhile, young squire,” he spoke, staring at Mochi. “How has your journey in Inkopolis been?”

Mochi smiled, jumping up and down, “Iso Padre! Inkopolis treat well, you should do the seeing! How is train treat you?”

“The ride is the same, as it always has been. But the care of my well being is high as of today.”

“That good hear!” Mochi picked up the OctoTrooper plushie that was sitting nearby, squeezing it close to him. “Oh, you meet Cap'n before but should met other agents.”

“Of course, I'll meet your comrades, young squire. Nothing would make me happier.”

4 looked up from the map and started to introduce himself, the two agents happily chatting away. They detoured the conversation to how the two ended up as brothers. 3 rolled his eyes and looked over the map. Four of the dots were blinking, a list of the station names was off to the side, the names C.Q listed off highlighted in a pink color.

“Agent 3,” the captain got his attention, motioning him over. “I can trust you to keep the other two agents under control, yes?”

“Don't worry about a thing, Cap'n. I'll keep an eye on them.”

“Thank you, Agent 3. I trust that they are capable of missions on their own, I just get worried about them at times. They don't seem to take things very seriously.”

“Nah, they're cool. I think they just like to embrace time off rather than being prepared for work.”

The train let out a loud hum before he could feel it slow down and chug to a stop. The windows revealed an odd hue of blue, green tinting over it with some large floating objects spinning slowly. Some objects glowed, others floated around in different directions, and some didn't move. It felt weird, like this part of the metro wasn't supposed to be seen.

Then, a loud thundering noise met their ears, a few objects cracking and falling to whatever demise they would reach. Some of the lit signs blinked, the lighting going out, or the light fizzed out altogether. Something thumped off the top of the train car before a blue and green octoling leap onto the station platform and scurry over the fence, letting out a giggle as she disappeared deeper into the station.

“Welcome to 8 Ball Master Station, please exit the train on your left.”


	2. What is this Hell Hole?

The three agents followed C.Q onto the station platform, the sea slug inching into the corner. Agent 8 stepped up on the black pedestal, walls leaping up around him, and he stepped off with a weapon; a Splat Charger in his hands. 4 took his turn on the pedestal ready for his weapon, while 3 looked around the glass container they seemed to be in. He heard 4 move, the sound of feet sliding along the ground, and then his arm flew up, barely blocking the Inkbrush from hitting his face.

“Just wanted to make sure you were still there,” the agent said as he lowered his brush.

“Don't do that again,” 3 grumbled, hopping onto the pedestal. The walls came back up, a neon sign also appearing in front of him, giving him four weapon options; Clash Blaster & Splat Bomb, Sploosh-o-matic & Curling Bomb, Squeezer, or Rapid Blaster. He hovered his hand over the Squeezer, the weapon jumping into his hands and the walls fell away.

“You are aware that the Squeezer is a pretty hard weapon, right? You have to keep pulling the trigger for the longest range, rather than holding it like other weapons.”

“I know how a Squeezer works, 4. I'm not incompetent with weapons, like you.”

“Can two please nice each other?” 8 asked, shooting the dummy in the corner. The octoling turned to C.Q, “What tips does have for this station?”

C.Q adjusted his hat, “You must match the shape on the left. If you destroy an incorrect crate, you will fail. You must find the 8 ball and bring it the goal. The 8 ball goal is inside of the shape on the right. Don't let the 8 ball fall or you will fail… Take care out there.”

8 grabbed both agent's arms and pulled them to the turnstile, cramming all three of them next to each other and swiping a card through a scanner. There was a hissing noise before they were launched forward, landing in a mostly walled off box, the ground covered in what seemed like grass. 3 shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and took a look around their surroundings.

There was a large octopus looking statue on the left, made out of a gray and shiny material. On the right was a large pile of boxes, some in an orange color standing out against the light brown of the other boxes. A tower stood in the middle of the two shapes. To the right was a winding pathway with a spinning neon light cylinder at the end, a couple 8's stamped on it. A respawn point was glowing at their feet.

“We have to match the shapes? Why not just destroy all of them and be done with this?” 4 asked, approaching the boxes. He started to flick his brush, getting some light purple ink on a couple crates.

“NO!” 8 shouted, running at the inkling and tackling the agent. “Not destroy incorrect crate! Only orange crate! Not test fail!”

“Okay, okay!” 4 gently pushed his brother off of him, climbing to his feet and picking up his brush. “I don't see why you're so worked up about this but fine. I won't destroy any 'incorrect' crates, alright?”

“That would be the appreciates, thank you.”

“So,” 3 started, getting the other's attention. “We just have to find an 8 ball and match one shape to the other? That seems easy enough.”

8 looked up at the shape, “It easy. Me done Rapid Blaster with before.”

“You've done this exact station with the Rapid Blaster?”

“No,” 8 shook his head. “I match shape with Rapid Blaster. I find 8 ball with Inkbrush.”

“Then why don't we send 4 to get the 8 ball and I'll help you match the shape?”

4 shrugged, “I'm fine with that plan if you are, Moch?”

“I not too sure,” 8 started toward the tower, his attention on the winding trail. “Koré could pop box like bat on ballooned water. 3 seem like better for hunt 8 ball, judge by maneuverability.”

“It shouldn't be too hard to find a little 8 ball. I'm sure Banira could clear out more boxes than I could, since he's _so_ good with a Squeezer,” 4 said, running next to the octoling with his brush against the ground.

“8 ball the size of box. Weigh a lot too, Banira probably lift up so no risk of falling.”

“Wait,” 3 started. “The 8 ball is the size of one of those boxes?” He pointed upward, quickly catching up to the other agents. “How did you manage to move it?”

“I shoot or hit with weapon. Hill or time limit did make hard, but me test passed.”

“If the 8 ball is that elusive,” 4 said, inking up part of the wall on the tower. “Then Banira can deal with it. I don't want to get hit by a large ball that can and will crush me if I mess up.”

“Sounds like a plan. I'll catch up with you guys once I get this 8 ball, cool?” 3 said.

“Sounds good.”

“Is cool for me.”

He left the two to their mission and slipped past the large pile of boxes. He shot some ink toward the path, quickly turning into squid form and swimming toward the glowing cylinder. A launch pad was glowing in a corner, sitting away from anything else. The pathway was short, it had the large cylinder at one end and a launchpad at the other. With no other choice, 3 leapt into the launchpad, getting propelled into the air.

8 and 4 were down a lot farther than he thought they would be, the two agents on top of the box shape. He could see them popping boxes, 8 sometimes pushing 4 so he wouldn't destroy the wrong crate. 3's feet collided with the ground and he stumbled, his attention snapping to where he landed. There were some miscolored OctoTroopers patrolling back and forth in front of him, an elite Twintacle Trooper staring at him from further along, none of them noticing the inkling that just crash-landed a couple feet away.

Holding the Squeezer closer to him, he looked at his surroundings. The 8 ball wasn't in sight so he leapt forward, firing at the OctoTroopers. They noticed him, the octarians shooting a weird teal ink at him. A few OctoTroopers popped, his attention on the three remaining octarians. Out of habit, he tried to reach for a bomb, stumbling when he didn't grab one. He took a shot to his leg, the ink splattering on his leg and sending pain through him. Letting out a hiss, he hid behind a pillar.

Enemy ink has never hurt that bad. Why did it sting so much this time? He shook his leg, the ink dissipating off of him. The pain ebbed away and he took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on his weapon, launching himself back into the fight. The Twintacle Trooper jumped from him appearing suddenly and in its face, but it didn't have enough time to react before it popped. He heard a static in his ear.

“Wait! Koré! I say not destroy incorrect crate!” 8's voice was coming out of his headphones.  
“I'm sorry to say but,” he heard C.Q start, sadness in his voice. “You destroyed an incorrect crate---Test failed.”

A high-pitched beeping met his ears before there was a weight on his lower back. Then, Pop. He felt like he got hit by a Splat Bomb. Sharp pain shot through him for a moment before he appeared back on the grassland with the other agents. He stood there blinking, looking around at everything, assuming he just blacked out for a few seconds. Then, C.Q's voice came back through his headphones.

“It seems the fail balloons still pop, I was afraid this would happen. Please avoid destroying an incorrect crate or letting an 8 ball fall and there shouldn't be any problems.”

“Before we do anything,” he said, crossing his arms. “Are you the one triggering these bombs? Maybe, instead of telling us not to do something, just don't press whatever button or switch it is that's causing them to explode!”

“If I could stop them from blowing up, Agent 3, I would. However, Kamabo. Co has programmed every station to blow up a fail balloon if the criteria is not met. So, please, do not blame me for something I have no control over. Just get the station over with and there will be no more issue.”

“Yeah,” 4 mumbled, scuffling his foot along the ground. “It's my bad. I hit the wrong crate and then boom, I guess all of us blew up. I didn't think anything bad would happen!”

“Just,” 3 took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from throwing the agent off the edge. “Don't do it again. I don't want to have to deal with this weird ink any longer than I have to.”

He shot his weapon back toward the launchpad, swimming through the ink before the others could respond. 8 and 4's voices were still coming through his headphones, but he tuned them out, not wanting to curse them out. Bouncing onto the launchpad, he landed back on the platform. All of the OctoTroopers were back, 3's ink boiling at the thought of going through them over and over.

He let out a groan and dashed forward. The Twintacle let out a distorted scream before boosting back and forth, trying to run from him. Jumping around a pillar, he dodged the bouncing blobs of enemy ink and popped a couple of the OctoTroopers. He stuck his foot out for a moment as he peered around the pillar, scanning the enemy line.

“Be careful, Agent 3,” the captain's voice came out of nowhere, causing him to stumble for a moment. The Twintacle jumped and fired at him, forcing him to roll along the ground to avoid getting hit. He held his finger on the trigger and watched as the Trooper turned light purple for a moment before popping.

“Can you not do that?” He assumed the captain could hear him. “I really don't need a heart attack when I'm trying to take care of business.” He took a Trooper off of its hovercraft and chucked it at the other remaining two, getting them all clumped in one spot before popping them.

“I'm just being helpful. Who knows what this station has in store?”

“At least keep your voice down then. It was like yelling 'I'm over here' while breaking and entering.”

The captain didn't respond, either annoyed with 3's brash demeanor or busy “helping” the other agents. He rolled his eyes and pushed forward, keeping an eye out for the 8 ball. He jumped down to a lower platform, holding his Squeezer close to his chest, and hid behind a sponge. The ground was rotating in front of him, a few OctoTroopers placed sporadically along the path.

An OctoSniper was sitting at the end, his laser sight floating around the other octarians. He took a deep breath and charged toward the sniper, ignoring the bouncing ink that the Troopers were shooting at him. 3 leapt over an OctoTrooper, grabbing its tentacle, and used his momentum to throw it at the sniper. He heard a screech of surprise from the two octarians before they were both writhing on the floor, panic on their faces, popping a heartbeat later. He crouched behind the sniper's perch, scanning his surroundings for his next move.

“Mic check! 1, 2! MC Princess on the mic for you!”

“Pearlie!” Marina's and Pearl's voices were loud in his ears, more noises that made him want to throw his headphones down into the depths below. “Sorry for jumping in here without warning, but Pearlie thought if 8 was going into the Metro, we should be there to help. So, here we are.”

“I didn't think the captain would've called you two,” 4 began, the sound of a grapplink coming from his end. “But I guess any amount of help is welcomed. Is this a good box to break, Moch?”

3 reached up and lowered the volume on his headset until their voices were just a low hum. He rose to his feet and waited for the remaining OctoTroopers to roll around to his level, popping them as they came about. He took a deep breath, straightening his cape, and continued on the path. A high pitched chime reached his ears, something he could only assume meant he activated a checkpoint, something lighting up on his left.

An elevator was in front of him, a OctoCommandeer sitting at the other end. 3 reached for a bomb again, his hand grabbing a fistful of his cape instead. He let out a grumble, the sound trailing into a whine, before he hopped onto the elevator. He pressed his hand against the wall, inching it upwards until his fingers were gripped onto the top. The platform jostled to a stop and he heaved himself up, surprising the Commandeer and turning it into a puddle of ink before it could retaliate. He leapt to the next platform, seeing a familiar glow.

A canned Burst Bomb Launcher floated on a pedestal and he rushed forward to claim it. He could feel the ink pumping through him, feeling like he would pop. He moved to the end of the platform, seeing the 8 ball trapped in a box surrounded by OctoTroopers. He set his Squeezer down, taking a deep breath, before activating the Bomb Launcher.

As soon as the first Burst Bomb was flung, and subsequently splattered, the octarians below devolved into chaos. 3 usually avoided Burst Bombs, unhappy with how little damage they did on impact, yet splatting multiple OctoTroopers with them gave him the same rush a single autobomb splat would've. The last bomb collided with the box before the ink faded away.

He jumped down, looking for a key, when three OctoCopters and an OctoBomber spawned in. He jumped, a small wave of panic washing over him for a heartbeat before his hand darted to his side, reaching for his Squeezer. More panic hit him as he looked up, seeing the barrel poking over the edge of the platform. He dodge-rolled to the side to avoid a bomb that was thrown at him, his eyes darting around, trying to find a way to get his gun.

The orb of an ink rail was sitting on the far-side, behind the OctoBomber. 3 took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself before launching himself forward, ducking under the Copters' ink blobs and leaping over a Splat Bomb. His foot collided with the ink rail and he stomped on it a couple times, hoping to be able to activate it without a weapon or bomb. When nothing happened, he glanced back at the octarians.

They were closing in on him, he had to think fast. From his experience in OctoValley, octarian troops couldn't activate ink rails. Maybe the Metro was different, but the only difference he had noticed was that their coloring was a little off. He had one last chance before he had to screwed over the others' hard work by dying. He backed himself against the ink rail, his calves pressed against the cold material, and he stared down the OctoCopters. His body tensed up, bracing for impact, and his arms covered his face.

The cold feeling of ink hit his upper arm before it soaked through his sleeve, sending a searing agony through him. He bit his tongue, holding back a cry of pain. Why did this ink have to hurt so bad? How could enemy ink burn like this? How was it worse than _water?_ He could hear his hearts beating and his blood roaring in his ears, louder and faster than he thought was possible. It had been a long time since he felt like this, helpless and in pain. He wanted to cry, it _hurt._ He took a shaky breath in before he was hit with a final shot to his arm.

His armour shattered, sending an explosion of ink out. Two OctoCopters got splashed, shocking them and making them back away. The ink rail made a pop noise before the rail spawned in, marking a path back to the upper platform. He released a sigh of relief before crawling onto the rail, his squid form taking him away from the octarians for a moment. Slinking along the line, he jumped off the rail and just laid on the ground. The concrete was cold, a soothing feeling after the onslaught of enemy ink. His body shuddered as he forced the feeling of crying away, his arm reaching to un-mute his headphones.

He needed noise. He needed something. _Anything._ Anything to distract him from his skin that was no doubt steaming and hissing. His head was making a dull hum. His body ached. He heard a chime as his armour regenerated. He inhaled, his entire body feeling pain, his entire body shaking. Focus on something else, anything else. He could hear the flutter of the OctoCopters, the gentle patter of the OctoBomber, his quiet breathing as his heart rate returned to a decent speed. Then, a voice.

“Hey, Banira?” 4's voice was welcomed with open arms. “We haven't heard much from you, are you alright?”

A painful inhale and then, “I'm fine. Just assessing the situation I'm in.”

“You sure? Moch kicked me off the project, I kept aiming at the wrong crates. I could come help you, if you'd like?”

“You'd probably get in the way,” he let out a hiss of pain, another jolt of pain flowing through him.

“Wait,” Marina chimed in, “Agent 3? You sound hurt. You okay, what happened?”

“Nothing, don't worry about it.” He reached for the Squeezer, pulling the weapon toward him and hugging it close. He wanted to kick himself. Not only did he walk into an obvious trap without a weapon, he even let the others see a weaker side of him.

“Alright, if you say so,” Marina's voice was laced with worry. “Just let us know if you need help or anything. I have to help 8 with his test.”

Silence. Silence meant he was alone. Alone again. The OctoCopters got louder, panic welling up inside him. He scrambled to his feet, holding his Squeezer out. His arms were shaking. What was this feeling? Why was his heart pounding so much at the sound of an _OctoCopter?_ He backed away from the 8 ball and the octarians, the hum of the canned special meeting his ears for the first time. He never knew they made noise. His free arm clutched his chest, the feeling of his hearts beating sending ripples through him, through his ink.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ His knees collided with the concrete, the impact barely being noticed. 3 was shaking too much, breathing too fast, sniffling _way_ too much. His eyes burned and his body was just shaking with no end in sight. He wanted to cry, probably needed to, but he choked it back. Forced the tears to stop, held his arms to try and stop shaking. _Think straight, Banira! Come on!_

They were just OctoCopters and an OctoBomber. He's dealt with more of those than he can count, he's beaten Octavio and brought back the Great Zapfish. He is one of the biggest reasons that Inkopolis is safe, that nothing happens to it. He forced a deep breath in, feeling his emotions subside, feeling more like his usual self. He let out one more sniffle before he looked back where he was supposed to go.

An OctoCopter had floated its way up, its back to the canned special. He shook as he took another breath in, before he launched himself forward. He took the special and chucked as many bombs as he could at the OctoCopter. His arm fell into the routine of throwing bombs, his body running on auto-pilot.

He didn't care that the OctoCopter had died awhile ago. He didn't care that the special had run out moments after. His arm kept throwing non-existent bombs, his emotions bubbling up again. He was upset. This was just an outlet. This was fine. He was fine. He pulled his arm to him, finally getting tired. He was breathing heavy, pulling the next canned special to him. His attention was focused on the two remaining OctoCopters and the OctoBomber, none of them noticing him or what he had done.

It didn't matter. _They_ didn't matter. They would be gone soon enough, their lives would end just like they had began. He aimed the Squeezer at the Bomber, ready to get rid of it. His eyes were focused down the sight, the Bomber in full view. All he had to do was pull the trigger then poof. It would be gone. His hands were shaking slightly, his aim uneven. _Focus, 3. Just breath. You can do this._ He bit his tongue, slowing his breathing, and tried to steady himself.

A flurry of ink rained down onto the remaining octarians, all three of them popping one after the other. 3 looked up from his sight line, seeing Agent 4 down on the lower platform. The shorter agent looked up at him, twirling his brush around like a child showing off his new toy. 3 let out an annoyed sigh before jumping down to meet him, holding his Squeezer tightly.

“I know you said you'd be fine and that I'd only get in the way,” 4 began, picking up a key that an octarian must've been holding. “But, I was bored so I came up here. I'll say, it doesn't seem like you've gotten far but maybe there were a lot more enemies than I thought.”

“Something like that,” 3 muttered, nudging 4 toward the box. “Now, hurry up. I've already taken long enough on this, I don't want to spend anymore time on this.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Agent, sir.”

4 threw the key at the box, both objects disappearing, and the 8 ball was free. 3 heard the familiar sound of squid rings spawning in and he turned toward the noise. A short line of three squid rings lead to a launcher of some sort, reminding him of the one back by the box statue. Was that launcher for them or the 8 ball? Would it work for them? What if it didn't? Would they fall to their death or land somewhere far down there with no way up? Only one way to find out.

“I wanna test something with you 4,” 3 started, approaching the launcher and tucked his Squeezer to his side, collecting the squid rings on the way.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I'm not sure if it will work, but I'm going to need you to trust me.”

“Uh oh, that's scary. I don't know if I _do_ trust you. But, um, what do you need me to do?”

3 stared off the edge, seeing the tops of buildings and other objects floating far below. “Here, give me your wrist.” 4 cautiously held his arm out, a look of worry on his face. The shorter agent leaned over the edge slightly, backing away from the end of the platform.

“I don't know what you want me to do, but I don't think I'm interested in finding out.”

“You'll be fine. Don't worry,” he grabbed the agent's wrist and carefully pulled him closer. “I won't drop you. I hope.”

“Wait! What do you mean, 'you hope?!' I don't want to fall a million mile-Hey!”

3 swung the agent toward the launcher, holding him inside the neon walls. His feet slid against the concrete as 4 wiggled and squirmed, nearly sending both of them into the pit below. He ground his teeth together and did his best to plant his heels, pulling the other agent back to solid ground. As soon as 4's feet touched the surface, he bolted to the 8 ball and held his brush in a “threatening” way.

“That was so not cool!”

“You survived, didn't you?” 3 grabbed the 8 ball, tugging it toward him before pushing into the launcher. “Stop crying and let's go.”

“I wasn't- That doesn't seem- You're a terrible person!” 4 shouted, watching the ball fly into the air.

“That's your opinion, even if it is wrong,” he jumped onto the ink rail and headed back to the canned special, hearing 4 scramble behind him.

“I don't think opinions can be wrong!”

3 gave the ball a shove toward the elevator, taking the canned special for the last time, “They can be, mostly when they're yours.”

“That just sounds like you can't take criticism well,” 4 took a special for himself, jogging after the taller agent.

“I can take criticism. I just refuse to listen to lies or misinformation.”

“You're calling me a liar, really? How mature- watch out!”

3 had to sprint forward to catch the 8 ball from falling off the side, the agent less than an inch away from falling himself. He shoved it toward 4 with his shoulder, pushing his way back to a safe spot, his grip on the ball keeping it from knocking the other over. The elevator was half way to the other side, heading away from them, a clear brush path marked on it.

The 8 ball was between them, 4 leaning against his brush as he stared off into the distance, 3 could see it from the corner of his eye. Would the agent run ahead with the brush, leaving him to deal with the octarians that would no doubt spawn in, or would he fight by his side? The thought of having to deal with more of this weird ink made him sick to his stomach, panic was making him sick. He tried to push it down, hoping 4 wouldn't notice.

Did he notice and was just ignoring it? The other was hard to read sometimes, whether or not he was paying attention to things was always a 50/50 guess on anyone's part. He swallowed the lump in his throat, watching the elevator make its way back, his legs glued to the spot. Maybe he could push the brush out of the agent's hands, forcing him to stay near. This was pathetic. _He_ was being pathetic.

“3?” 4 gave him a nudge, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Are we going to...whoa, hey. You alright? You're looking a little pale,” he hit the 8 ball with his brush, watching it roll onto the elevator. “I can lead the way, if you're not feeling well.”

“I'm fine-”

“You say that a lot, it's starting to sound like an excuse. I know you're kind of guarded, but you can tell me if you aren't doing okay. I'm not going to judge.”

3 wanted to snap at him, tell him that he needed to keep his nose out of his business. But he couldn't find the strength or even the will. A part of him even wanted to lean against something, _someone_, and cry, maybe not cry, about how painful this whole experience had been. He just couldn't get out the words, any words, so he settled on shrugging, his hands resting on the 8 ball.

4 looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, placing a hand on 3's shoulder. The elevator shook under them, indicating their stop, and 3 shoved the 8 ball onto the platform. The shorter agent placed his brush against the ground, a moment of panic welling up in 3's chest, but he just pushed it at the same speed the ball was moving.

Another checkpoint lit up, the high-pitched chime returning, causing a couple more OctoTroopers to spawn in. Their appearance sent a, hopefully unnoticeable, shiver down his spine. 4 seemed occupied, the agent fidgeting with his brush handle. The rotating platform was still moving, something 3 had hoped would've stopped as soon as the 8 ball was in play.

Then he noticed the few walls that were placed along it. Could he use those to hold the ball as 4 dealt with the Troopers? It wasn't spinning too fast, so it was possible. He opened his mouth, about to ask, when a thought crossed his mind. Would 4 even listen to him since he dangled him off a cliff? It was worth a shot either way.

“I have a plan.”

“Oh boy, I can't _wait_ to find out what it is,” 4 groaned, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“I'm going to need you to distract the OctoTroopers,” 3 ignored him, hoping the agent would listen to him. “And I'll roll the 8 ball across as fast as possible. As soon as it's on the other side, we can either kill the remaining Troopers or we can just leave them, up to you.”

The shorter agent tapped his chin with the brush, tossing the idea around in his head before he spoke, “It's worth a shot. Just...don't shove me off the side, okay? If you can agree to that, I'll wait for your signal.”

3 nodded, adjusting his grip on the 8 ball. 4 pressed his brush on the ground, prepared to spring into action. The taller agent moved to stand behind the ball. He grabbed his Squeezer and aimed it down the center of the ball, lining the sight up. He watched an OctoTrooper roll to the other side, the next one popping up from the opposite side of the platform.

_3, 2, 1,_ “Now!” Agent 4 wasted no time, racing out with his brush before using the momentum to launch him into a Trooper. The octarians both jumped in surprise and started firing their bouncing ink blobs, 4 dancing around them with his brush. 3 tore his gaze away from them and took a deep breath before firing on the 8 ball, sending it flying to the other platform.

The ball started to roll off the edge, sending a jolt of panic through him. His eyes snapped shut, prepared to feel the balloon on his ink tank explode. A small pain started throbbing in his lower back, the tiniest of a phantom reminding him just how much he _hated_ the metro. He held his breath, his body going tense, expecting the respawn. He could already feel the annoyance of the other agents.

No explosion? He carefully opened an eye, staring down the straightaway. 4 was holding the ball with the tip of his brush, the smaller agent straining and stretching his body as far as he could probably reach. He turned to 3, a look of “help me” written all over his face, a quiet noise of effort escaping him.

The sound of an OctoTrooper brought him back to reality, the weird ink bouncing toward 4. 3 knew that it was going to hurt, why wouldn't it, and he positioned his Squeezer. The 8 ball launched forward, barely skirting the edge of the platform. It stopped rolling, sitting safely, and he forced the air out of his lungs.

_Splat._

“Holy mother of cheese!” 4 screamed, stumbling on his feet. “Okay,” he hissed, clutching the side where the ink hit him. “Don't get hit by this weird ink, it burns.”

3 shrugged one shoulder as a response, making quick work of the remaining Trooper. The smaller agent gave him a thumbs up, jumping onto the other platform with extra effort. 3 followed shortly after, carefully traversing the rotating platform so as not to go spinning off the edge. 4 was making some quiet whimpers, the pain from this odd ink still very apparent on his face, his feet wobbling as they moved. 3 unmuted his headphones, hoping that they just had to drop off the 8 ball and be done.

“I mean, it was an accident so I'm not going to over react or dwell on this any longer. I just wish they would have apologized in a different way,” Marina said, clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“Nah, I get ya 'Rina. But had it been me, I woulda hit them with my Princess Cannon a couple times,” Pearl responded, a long slurp following her words.

“That would be an over reaction, though. Besides, I don't believe they meant any harm. Again, it was an accident.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” 3 began, getting an “Oh” from the octoling idol. “But we got the 8 ball. How is 8 doing on the boxes?”

He heard the adjustment of an ear piece before he got a response from 8, “Me popped them all! The goal is open for the ball.”

“Cool! Then Banira and I are on the way,” 4 said, launching the 8 ball across the platform. It rolled off the runway and went flying upward before crashing near the launchpad that brought the two agents upward.

“I see you soon, then!”

3 took a quick glance at his surroundings, trying to find the launchpad that would take them back to the box statue. No light purple sparks were floating around within his line of sight and he couldn't hear any hums that would alert him of a launchpad. 4 was still whimpering, rubbing his hand against his neck, barely covering the faint tealish glow. He felt his hand twitch, wanting to reach out and offer some sort of help to the shorter agent.

He hadn't gotten hit directly on his skin and he didn't realize how much more it would sting if he did. 3 tightened his grip on his Squeezer, making his way to the end of the runway, 4 following behind him. He leaned over the edge slightly, seeing a small platform further down with a launchpad in the center of it. There wasn't much standing room on the platform but if they went one at a time they would probably be fine.

“Yeah, I'm not doing that,” 4 mumbled and was already walking away. 3 wasn't sure how the other agent would get back but it wasn't his job to make sure he came back.

He shoved himself off the runway and landed on the small platform, quickly squid forming and launching himself next to the 8 ball. Even if 4 decided to stay up top, 3 was sure the test chamber would bring him back when it ended, so he just shoved the 8 ball toward the launcher.

“Whoa! Look at that thing fly!” Pearl's voice was loud and sudden causing him to jump, having completely forgotten to mute his headphones.

“Are we sure it won't break any boxes?” Marina asked, some electronic _blips_ coming from her end, the DJ probably trying to calculate something.

“From what C.Q said,” 4 began, a quiet hiss of pain escaping him. “If Moch got rid of all the boxes, the 8 ball should go in no problem.”

A high-pitched chime met his ears, a purple-pink beacon shimmering from the top of the box statue. He assumed that meant the ball was in place. The top of the grey statue started spinning before opening up, a yellow light emanating from within. 3 looked around, trying to find the light purple of 8's hair, or any other sign of the small agent, not seeing anything that resembled 8.

A bit of blue and green poked out from the pole holding up the boxes, 3 immediately pointing his Squeezer at the octarian. The octoling stepped out from the pole, her hands up in a surrendering gesture. All of his senses were screaming at him to take the shot, his eyes following her as she approached, his finger twitching at the trigger.

There was something off about her, she was weaponless and not trying to kill him, her face showing genuine fear as opposed to the usual determination octolings usually sported. The glasses on her face reminded him of the ones seen in OctoValley, just a different coloring to them, most of them covered by her tentacles and her hat. A set of headphones was placed on her neck, music quietly playing out of them. She stopped a couple feet away, her hands still up, and a nervous set of jitters visible in her arms and legs.

“Who are you?” 3 asked, holding the Squeezer tighter, his finger pressing against the trigger. The octoling tilted her head, a flash of confusion on her face, something he would've missed had he blinked. 3 racked his brain, trying to remember some of the octarian that Marie had taught him.

“Banira!” 8's voice came from above, the octoling jumping off the boxes and landing next to him. 3 was pulled into a tight hug. “Thanks you for deliver 8 ball! Where is Koré?”

“8, let go. There's an octoling here,” 8 removed his grip, grabbing his charger off of his back. “Koré didn't want to jump to the launchpad so he is still up there. This octoling doesn't understand Inklish, can you ask her some things for me?”

“You not want to splat her?”

“She doesn't seem to be a threat, so why not?”

“Makes sense. I not mind playing translate for you.”

“Thank you, 8. Can you ask her who she is?”

8 turned to the octoling, her posture seeming slightly relieved now that there was another octoling around. Octarian seemed to roll off his tongue a lot easier than Inklish, the pronunciation of words seeming to be as simple as breathing. The octoling responded, her voice a bit distorted like the rest of the octarians he had met down here.

“She say her name is 'Deadfish' with no 'A' and a '1' instead of 'I', though me not sure what that means,” 8 said, looking at the upper platforms, presumably looking for the lost agent.

“Probably an alias or something. Why is she here?”

8 repeated what he had said, or at least that's what he assumed the octoling was saying, a cheerfulness to his voice despite the situation. Dedf1sh was silent for a moment, staring at the ground before her eyes flicked to 3 then back to 8. Her response was slow, some of her words coming out stuttered, a tinge of sadness on the edge of her voice.

“No reason come to mind. She not remember much other than metro,” 8 said, worry written in bold letters on his face. “Banira? I thinks she should come with us.”

3 flinched at the thought, “I don't know if we can trust her. She looks just like the rest of the octarians down here, she might be trying to trick us.” He pressed the barrel of his Squeezer against her forehead, prepared to pull the trigger at the slightest twitch of a wrong move.

The octoling said something, her voice panicked, her eyes pleading with 8 for something. The two stood there, engaged in conversation that 3 assumed wasn't going to end well on his side. Dedf1sh was probably begging 8 to let her live, presumably thinking that 8 could get 3 to lower his weapon. She wasn't wrong either, 8 had a way of pushing him toward what the smaller agent wanted (mostly to go out for ice cream but still.) He tightened his grip, more for his sake than anything else.

“She not threat. She say she just DJ, like Marina. She can come with us, right?”

3 wanted to say no, every fiber of his being was pushing for it, but he couldn't find the words. There was a small part of him, so small he wasn't sure how it was still there, that was screaming for yes. A quiet chant in his mind, vibrating out of his brain and into his body, the word trying to form and nearly escaping off his tongue.

Why would he say yes? He had to look at it logically, there was no reason _to_ say yes. This octoling was an enemy, albeit unarmed but still an enemy. Enemies weren't too fond of showing him mercy, the OctoCopters form earlier driving that nail through the wall, so why would he do the same to them? Was it 8? Was it the smaller agent that made him want to help the octoling in front of him? It would make sense, he was fighting 8 when they both were forced into the metro. It had to be that.

“Sorry, I'm late!” 4 caused all three of them to jump, their heads snapping in his direction. “That launchpad was terrifying so I found a ride rail that brought me- What is happening here?” He stood there, his brush pressed along the ground with a trail behind him, staring at the make-shift interrogation.

“Banira gonna shoot innocent octoling,” 8 said, making 3 grit his teeth together.

“I am not!” He protested. “She's the same coloring as the other octarians here, she's not innocent! I'm just trying to understand why there is one octoling here when they usually come in swarms.”

“She doesn't seem like the other octarians here,” 4 mused, walking around Dedf1sh. “I mean, yeah, same color scheme, but that seems to be the only resemblance that I'm seeing.”

“See!” 8 shouted gleefully, bouncing on his toes. “Even Koré agree with me! So we take her with us, yes?”

Dedf1sh said something, grabbing 8's arm, fear still written on her face. 8 gave her a pat on the arm, some sort of reassurance in his voice. 3 jotted a mental note to remind Marie for more octarian lessons, not realizing how useful the other language was. 4 seemed taken aback from 8's excitement, but he didn't say anything to oppose the idea.

“8, do you know how stupid of an idea it is to let the enemy this close without any reason?” 3 said, finally lowering the Squeezer. He reached a hand up and brought the volume on his headphones down a bit. “I know the phrase is, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' but don't you think this is a bit much?”

The octoling agent said something in octarian before looking up at 3, “It not much. It just simple decency. You show same to me after metro, why not her?”

There went 3's argument. If he was thinking straight and wasn't terrified out of his mind, he probably could have kept going, could have even won. But, of course, he wasn't, so he couldn't. 3 really hated the metro, it was messing with his head. It was probably in his thoughts, corrupting parts of his mind he hadn't looked at in awhile.

“Fine, she can come with us,” he conceded, raising his hand before 8 started screaming. “But, she can't go into tests with us and one wrong move from her and I'll pop her like a balloon.”

“That's graphic but thanks you!”

“Make sure she knows that, too. I won't be held responsible for you not telling her things.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Agent, sir!” 8 cheered before happily telling Dedf1sh the news.

“Oh, not you too.”

“So,” 4 started, scuffling his foot along the ground. “Did we beat the test or...?”

“I think so? We matched the statues and we got the 8 ball to the goal. What else would there be to do?”

“Yo,” Pearl got their attention. “Don't forget to grab the yellow tube stick thing. It's up in the grey statue's head. Like its brain or something.”

“Thanks, Pearl,” 3 said, motioning for 4 to get the tube before mumbling under his breath, “Looks like you're good for something _other_ than being a loud and obnoxious part of this whole mess.”

Dedf1sh gave 3 a nudge, taking a quick glance at 8, before saying in a heavy octarian accent and a distorted voice, “Thank you. Truly.”

3 nodded, not really trusting his limited octarian to be able to properly accept her appreciation, so he went with his usual way. He stood up a little taller, trying to build up his walls again, trying to get his guard back up. 8 and Dedf1sh started talking again, about what he didn't know, didn't really care either. A thought crossed his mind and he had to put _too much_ effort to force it down.

He wanted to go home. He hadn't thought that in years, never got to a distress level so high that he craved his home. He missed curling up on the couch, all the family movie nights he decided to skip out on, the late night talks about how it's fine for him to have a lack of close friends. The feeling he had of apologizing to his mother came back, eating away at his stomach.

He wondered if their phones worked down in the metro, they had to right? The captain called them last night, so he assumed they must. At the very least, there was a place nearby that had cell service. He'd give her a call, he decided, give her an update and be a bit nicer to her, nothing like how he was this morning.

“I got the thing!” 4 called from up top, the inkling jumping down. A massive launchpad appeared at their feet, launching all 4 of them back into the box with C.Q. Loud machinery started chugging before everything started turning off, a fading hum following behind them, the floating islands and objects started to crash into the land below. The entire testing chamber started rumbling, shaking underneath their feet, C.Q and 8 quickly ushering everyone back onto the train.

The captain grabbed 4's arm, pulling the shorter agent in first. 3 nudged in Dedf1sh, 8 scampering behind them with C.Q in his arms. The captain was looking over the agents, making sure none of them were hurt, when he noticed the extra octoling. He made a squawk noise, as if he was going to continue off of it, before the train doors slammed shut and the transport chugged to life. 3 looked around, the blue slug nowhere to be seen, and he assumed he was the one getting them out of there.

“Cap'n! Meet new friend!” 8 cheered, bouncing on his toes as soon as the train left the testing chamber. “Her name Dedf1sh and she DJ!” He waved her over, latching onto her arm. “She only speak octarian but that okay. Me can translate!”

3 left the train car before he could hear how the captain responded, trying to find a quiet place where he could be alone. The next car was less crowded, passengers dotting the seats here and there, C.Q sitting in the middle of the isle. The door behind the slug wasn't taped off, 3 hoping he could slip passed the conductor and hide inside.

“Hey, C.Q?” The slug looked up at him, one of his little tendrils adjusting the hat on his head. “Do you mind if I slip pass you and into the next car? I kind of need to make a private phone call.”

“Sorry, Agent 3. That car is for employees only,” C.Q said. “But, I could get the passengers of this car into the other for a bit. Might as well, we need to discuss what the next station you three will be tackling is and then this car should be all yours.”

“It doesn't matter, whichever they choose will work.”

“Okay, if you are certain,” the slug started heading to the others, waving the passengers along. Some went quietly, trusting the conductor's decision, while others grumbled in their own languages. 3 watched the car doors open, a cheer from 8 echoing through the now empty car, before the doors slid shut and he was left alone.

He dropped his headphones off his ears, the ear pieces bumping into his shoulders. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened the lock screen, smiling at the picture he got of 8 with a milkshake. His password was easy to type, having typed that exact word many times before, and he was quick to get to the dial pad. His fingers hovered over the numbers, one of his hearts leaping into his throat.

_Come on, Banira. You can do this. It's just a simple phone call._ The metro was probably psyching him out. Any other day and he could do this no problem. He took a deep breath before thumbing in their home phone number. His hearts were pounding in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed the call button, pressing the phone against his ear.

His ink was roaring in his ears, a dull thumping distracting him from the silence of the call. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, nibbling on it as a way to get some of his anxious energy out. The dial tone started ringing in his ear and more fear started clawing at him. The click noise at the other end made him jump and he took a steadying breath.

“Hey, you've reached our house!” He flinched at the sound of his own voice, albeit sounding younger and more childish. “We can't come to phone right now but call back soon!” He started to pull the phone away, ready to hang up and try again, when he heard a quiet voice in the background. “Did I do good, mama?”

His mother's voice was quiet, clearly standing far away from the phone, “You did amazing, sweetie.”

He pressed the red button as fast as he could, feeling his breathing coming in quicker and heavier. He lowered himself into a seat, gently hitting his head against the wall in frustration. A sniffle escaped him as he dialed again, hoping his mother would pick up under his breath.

“Hey, you've-” He nearly threw his phone against the wall, holding back a scream. He hung up again, biting his tongue for a moment as he wracked his brain for an answer.

She usually was the first one to pick up the phone, even if she missed it she called back immediately. He checked the time, not thinking it was too late at night, the clocking reading 4:28. Maybe she was busy with work, then. That had to be it. He pressed his tongue into his cheek as he dialed her personal number, hoping he wasn't interrupting an important meeting. The phone started ringing and he held his breath as he waited.

“This is Ichigo. Sorry I couldn't-” He hung up and pressed his forehead against his phone. Why was this so hard? His stomach was curling in on itself and he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. He gently slapped his face, trying to knock some sense into himself. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and dialed again. He was worrying for nothing, his mother would answer and then he could vent his frustrations.

“This is Ichigo. Sorry I couldn't make it to the phone I'm either busy with work or taking care of the household. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.” Or maybe she wouldn't answer and he'd have to get through this without her advice. He bit his tongue. He'd just have to take her word and hope that soon as possible actually meant soon. He heard the beep and took a shaky breath.

“Hey, mom. Uh, I just thought I'd check in with you, since you tend to worry about work and all that. Things are...well things aren't too good? I thought I could do this no problem but everything seems out to get me. I don't really know what to do. Um,” he sniffled, feeling the stress actually get to him, “other than that, the job seems to be quick. I don't think I'll be home for dinner, though, but I promise I'll bring something for whatever time it is.

“I was kind of hoping you'd answer. I'm not really sure how much more of this I can take right now and I hoped I could get some sort of advice. Uh, I miss you and I'll stay safe, or as safe as I can. Don't worry though, I won't be gone too long. Not like last time. It may just take a few days. I'll see you when I get home...I love you,” he whispered at the end, hanging up and burying his face in his knees. He shuddered as a wave of emotion hit him.

He heard C.Q slink passed, the train chugging to life, and the hum of the tracks. C.Q heaved himself onto the chair next to him, he could see the blue slug out of the corner of his eye. One of his tendrils was gently rubbing 3's back, offering some sort comfort. His eyes burned and he choked back as much of the tears as he could, only a few making it out with a hiccup to accompany them.

“If the metro is too much for you, Agent 3, I'm certain the captain would let you sit out of a test or two,” C.Q said, his voice quiet. 3 didn't respond. He couldn't. It would come out as some weird gurgle, he was sure of it. He couldn't sit out even if he wanted to either. He promised the captain he would watch over the other agents and he couldn't do that from the train.

The sea slug didn't try to say anything after that, he just stayed there, rubbing circles on 3's back. He appreciated it, even if he didn't say it. The tears stopped coming, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He didn't know how long he had stayed there, the only indication of time was the stiffness in his limbs. He stretched himself out, sniffling and wiping at his face.

“Hey, C.Q? Can I ask you for a favor?” He asked quietly, not trusting his voice.

“Yes, Agent 3?”

“I left my coffee in the other car, would you mind just fetching it real quick?”

“Not an issue,” the slug jumped off the seat and started to slink away.

“Oh, and um, thank you.”

“Do not worry about it. I understand your position,” and with that, the slug had disappeared into the other car. 4's voice was cheerful, some of the agent's words coming through the open doors for a moment. He took in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes to try and calm down the redness that was no doubt there.

C.Q returned with his coffee, the beverage a little colder than when he made it. He drank as much as he could, hoping for a little extra energy. The train slowed to a halt, the humming fading away. The car doors slid open, 8 leaping through and dragging 3 into the next mission.

“Come on, Banira! It Can't Touch One Shot Station. Let get it done!” 8 shouted, grabbing 4's arm as well and taking both agents out into the test chamber.

“Alright, here we go again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long since I've posted here and I'm so sorry. I just got into pretty bad writer's block for a month and then I spent most of the time writing a few hundred words on the days I managed to write. So I hope this chapter being a bit longer than the last one made up for it. This one also got a bit more angsty than I thought it would but hey, that could be good sometimes. I do hope this chapter was enjoyable and here is to finishing chapter three sooner rather than later


End file.
